Bloodlines: Divergence
by Pygmalion Desired Me
Summary: Severus Snape is tasked with raising his cousin, Harry Potter, after his parents deaths because Harry is a Prince and family is the most important thing. AU, future slash.
1. Chapter 1

Note: PLEASE READ. There will be future slash between people whose names I won't be mentioning. If you don't like it then don't read and don't complain. There's a very loose plot here and I know about as much as you do as to where this story is going! I just really want to write this and share it, just to see if my writing has gotten any better, So please, constructive criticism is welcomed. Also, this is one of those "new take on an old cliché" type of fics and I don't know how original it will be but I hope you'll enjoy it.

Bloodlines: Divergence.

Prologue

June 5th, 1980

Albus Dumbledore isn't surprised when Lucius Malfoy, hair in disarray, comes barging into his office one dreary March afternoon. In fact, Dumbledore appears to have been waiting for him as the gargoyle had jumped aside as soon as it saw Lucius and the office door had been cracked open.

"You were right," Lucius says with some contempt, already having caught his breath. He stops in front of the desk, standing straight and trying to maintain some of the dignified air he left behind in his rush to get to Hogwarts. "My son nearly burned me alive not thirty minutes ago."

Dumbledore can tell. Lucius' robes are wrinkled and his sleeves are singed, some patches of the silk glistens from being melted and the silver buttons on his shirt _are _melted, some of them completely missing all together. His face is pinched with stress and red with the early stages of what looked like a bad sunburn. If it wasn't such a serious situation, Dumbledore would have laughed a little at seeing the impeccably tidy Malfoy so disheveled. He settles for laughing quietly in his head.

"This is quite unexpected." Dumbledore says, "Your grandfather's bloodline didn't show itself until he was nearly seven-years-old, if I've read it correctly…"

Lucius narrows his eyes impatiently. "Spare me the history lessons and tell me what to do about this."

"Well, I'm sure a dragon tamer might be of some use." Lucius' face turns red—redder—from the effort of holding back a curse or two. Dumbledore smiles and decides to give the man a break. "The best you can do is put up strong fire-repelling wards on everything in his room or the entire Manor if you must. There is little else you can do until he is old enough to be taught how to control himself."

"What kind of training?"

"I believe Occlumency is our best bet. The Malfoy bloodline is highly influenced by strong emotions. Once he knows his own mind, he will be able to control his bloodline." Dumbledore thinks for a useless moment about who could possibly partake of this task in the future. Only one man comes to mind, really. "Severus will have no qualms over taking up this task." He says.

Lucius sneers, "Severus has qualms about everything."

"That is very true but not about this. He is your son's Godfather after all." Lucius stares at the twinkle-eyed man, wondering if he should even ask how he knows that. Draco was born a mere two hours ago and Severus was still at the Manor making sure it didn't burn down in his absence.

Dumbledore leans forward in his chair suddenly and stares intently at him, morphing into the powerful wizard that destroyed Grindlewald and greatly irritated Voldemort. His power is all in his eyes, in the way they brighten, in their serenity. They're misleading. Lucius will never admit it but he admires that ability. "You know what you must do now, Lucius." Dumbledore says softly.

Malfoy frigidly stares back at him, standing stiffly. It doesn't fool Dumbledore. He knows that Lucius is apprehensive, as is his right. He is being asked to risk everything, after all.

"Of course," Lucius drawls.

There is silence for what feels like hours as Lucius struggles to say something extremely uncharacteristic. Dumbledore waits patiently, turning back into the wise, grandfatherly man whose eyes twinkle too much to be healthy.

"My family," Lucius says stiffly. "They will be safe?"

"Severus has already taken them to the safe house." Dumbledore assures him. Lucius is relieved though it only shows by the way his holier-than-thou posture becomes less holy and more humble. Dumbledore smiles and opens a drawer in his desk. He pulls out a bright red tail feather, one of Fawkes', and holds it out to him. "The safe house is already under the Fidelius and this portkey is the only way to reach it. For obvious reasons, I shall refrain from telling you who your secret keeper is. The activation word is redemption."

"Predictable." Lucius sneers as he takes the feather and tucks it into one of many hidden pockets in his robes. He doesn't want to admit that it is a fitting password. "I will return as soon as possible." He also doesn't want to admit that it is very likely he won't return at all or even with all of his limbs intact. Dumbledore's sympathetic gaze tells him that it isn't a secret that he might not return. Lucius turns on his heels and walks out.

Unknown Location, five days later

Lucius sometimes forgets why he joined Voldemort when he is at home, his "day job", or anywhere else Voldemort isn't. It is easier to think clearly and more logically about the blood purist ideals and how unfounded they truly are when not in the presence of the Dark Lord. There has never been any substantial research on the effects muggleborn's have in the strengthening or weakening of the magic levels in purebloods. It is all speculation and the twisted, misquoted beliefs of Salazar Slytherin that paranoid purebloods are only so eager to believe in. Some days, Lucius is ashamed to have been one of those small minded purebloods who believed they were being run into extinction by the ever increasing population of muggleborn's and half bloods.

It isn't until he enters the main hall, lavishly decorated in Slytherin green and silky black draperies, where Voldemort sits casually in a high wing backed black leather chair at the head of a long obsidian table, that he remembers why he joined him. The air in the room distorts with heavy magic that threatens to snuff out the candlelight and all but drugs him with its sickly sweet scent and butter thick texture. It's thickest around Voldemort, which is why many death eaters crave the title of right-hand man. It helps that he is handsome. He looks youthful for someone in his sixties, with just a touch of gray hair at his temples, smooth pale skin, high cheekbones and unearthly eyes the color of fresh blood. He wears only the finest of robes, fitted to his lean, wiry figure in Slytherin colors and the occasional royal blue.

He's charming too, a glorified sweet-talker and Lucius believes that's why most of the female death eaters joined him in the first place, even some of the males. Lucius isn't so shallow as to have joined Voldemort just because he was pleasing to the eyes. No, it was his intelligence and the casual display of raw power that drew him in and almost kept him. Lucius probably would have stayed a loyal death eater had Voldemort not expressed interest in the Malfoy bloodline.

Lucius has killed and tortured. He has enjoyed it and laughed about the misfortune of muggles and muggle-lovers with his fellows but now he has a son. His eyes see through a cleaner window, his ears hear a sharper sound and his heart beats to a more passionate rhythm.

He will _not_ give up his son to this madman.

"Lucius," Voldemort says, drawing his attention towards him. "Come closer."

Lucius leaves his seat and walks closer until the weight of Voldemort's magic forces him to his knees. It dilates his pupils and quickens his heart. He's already beginning to see colors swirling in front of his eyes, like tiny snakes.

He doesn't have to look up to know Voldemort is pleased.

"I hear your son was born several days ago." He says conversationally.

"Yes, my lord."

"What's his name, Lucius?"

"Draco."

Voldemort laughs softly and shifts in his chair, crossing one leg over the other casually. "How fitting."

"I thought so as well, my lord."

"So he does have the active bloodline."

"We don't believe it will be active for a few years as my grandfather's bloodline didn't manifest until he was almost seven-years-old. It is highly probable that he does have it, my lord."

"That is good to hear." Voldemort pauses and Lucius chances a glance. Voldemort is staring at him thoughtfully, tapping a manicured fingernail to a clean shaven chin. Suddenly, he speaks and his eyes twinkle with frightening familiarity. He thinks, with drunken amusement, that he isn't all that much different from Dumbledore. Perhaps a little more cultured. "Lucius, I've decided to give you seven years with your son. When his bloodline makes itself known, bring him to me."

"As you wish, my lord." He replies smoothly. 

The meeting doesn't last long and Lucius leaves the same way he always does. He converses for a few moments with his wife's sister and her husband, who both congratulate him on his new child. He talks with several ministry employees, accepts dinner dates that he normally agrees to, and casually makes his leave after bowing to Lord Voldemort who is too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice the unnatural glint in Lucius' normally dull blue eyes.

He doesn't have much time to get what Dumbledore asked him to retrieve. Voldemort will only stay in the meeting hall for another fifteen minutes before he retires to his bedroom, which is connected to the library he's heading for. Lucius hastens his pace. He meets no one on the way but if he did it wouldn't be a problem. He is often found heading towards the library after meetings or well before them. Voldemort's personal collections of books are something of a legend.

He knows exactly where the book is and briskly heads towards the very back of the library. His footsteps echo against the marble floor and his heart echoes in his ears. If he were stopped now…

"Lucius." He halts abruptly, stiffening, and turns around. Severus is leaning against one of the round obsidian tables; a thick, worn, leather bound volume is tucked under one arm. "You don't have much time. The book was set up in about a dozen charms to alert the Dark Lord should anyone have the intention of taking it out of the castle." Severus walks over and shoves the book at him. "Use the portkey, it will work even here."

"Severus—"

Severus snaps, impatient, "This is no time for leisure; Hex me and make it believable. As long as I survive fully functional I won't hold it against you." Lucius nods and without hesitation shoots off rapid fire hexes and curses that has Severus crumbled on the ground, bleeding and twitching. Severus' wand rolls away from his lax hand as Lucius grips the feather.

"Redemption," He whispers and is gone.

July 31st, 1980

Their child's cry breaks through the air, loud and healthy. Lily and James shed tears of happiness. He holds her hand, which is weak with exhaustion and kisses her forehead tenderly, ignoring the sweat.

"Congratulations, it's a… boy…" The healer announces. James and Lily are too happy to notice the strange undertones in his voice or the way he stares at their child with shock and awe. However, they do see the way the nurses gasp as the healer cleans their child with a swish of his wand and wraps him in a soft blue blanket.

"Is there something wrong?" James asks.

"It depends on your definition of wrong." The healer says slowly, approaching the bed. He hands the child to Lily who smiles brightly despite her exhaustion. It takes a few seconds for her to realize that instead of normal human ears, her child has fuzzy black cat ears and when she does, she's not very shocked. In fact, her smile grows brighter.

James, however, is five seconds from exploding with shock. His mouth moves wordlessly and he turns three shades of purple.

Lily laughs, "Breath, dear."

Air rushes from his lungs, followed by high pitched, disbelieving words, "He has cat ears!"

"And a tail." The healer adds.

"How the f—"

"Calm down James." Lily orders. She brushes a finger against her crying baby's cheek and almost instantly he begins to fall asleep. A smile graces her glowing face when her baby boy actually starts purring. "Dumbledore told me this might happen. It's my family's bloodline."

"Bloodline? I thought you were muggleborn!" James whispers furiously.

"So did I." She yawns and looks up at him. "We can talk about this later when I'm not so exhausted. Right now, our son needs a name."

"Harold James Potter." James says immediately. "After my father."

"Harold James _Bastet_ Potter." Lily corrects. "After my mother."

"Lily, he's a boy." James protests weakly.

"I know that and I don't care. That's his name." She says firmly. The healer knows who's won this round and spells the birth certificate.

"We'll owl you a copy of the birth certificate after it's put on record." The healer tells them.

"That's fine. When will I be able to go home?" Lily asks, yawning again.

"At the latest, tomorrow afternoon."

"Good." With that said, Lily promptly falls asleep, protectively cuddling her baby.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter respond in almost the exact manner James did when they come to visit the next day after Lily has been discharged. James has had time to adjust, now that he _knows_, but he understands their surprise. It's not every day your best friend's wife births a cat baby.

Remus and Sirius lean over the crib where Harry is sleeping, cooing. Peter opts to stand as far away as possible and stare nervously in their direction.

"Do you know what bloodline this is?" Sirius asks, finding it difficult to stop himself from reaching out and petting Harry. He's just too damn cute and of course he is with the parents he has; even if he were without an active bloodline, he would be the cutest little baby ever.

"The Prince bloodline." He says.

"Prince? I thought they died out." Sirius says. He gives into his urges and brushes a finger across Harry's cute little kitten ears. They twitch instinctively but Harry remains asleep. Sirius has a feeling nothing short of an explosion would wake the littlest Potter.

"Just about; Lily says she has a cousin somewhere who's a Prince."

"And now there's Harry," Remus smiles, tearing his eyes away from the baby to look at James. "That makes three."

James grunts in agreement, "That's nice and all but it would be better if he developed the Potter bloodline. There hasn't been an active one in decades!"

"Be glad he didn't," Sirius smirks at him. "Then you'd have a kitten that could grow his own catnip!"

"Oh _Merlin._"

"He should be easy to entertain though." Sirius says gleefully. "All you need is some yarn, a couple of bobblies with the fluff on the end, and Wormtail."

James and Sirius giggle as Peter sputters, "Wha-what? I'm not going to be his chew toy!"

"Aw, lighten up uncle Petey," Sirius grins.

"Remus chuckles and says, "He doesn't even have teeth yet, Peter, no worries."

"And I wouldn't let him put you in his mouth anyway," James shudders. "No offense."

"Ah. . .none taken."

June 15th, 1981

Their safe house is surprisingly _not_ a hole in the ground but a cottage in the countryside of muggle France. It's quaint with two bedrooms, one bathroom, a sitting room with a fireplace—not connected to the floo network—and a kitchen. There is a flower garden in the backyard that can be seen from the kitchen window. Thankfully, there is a house elf provided by Hogwarts and Narcissa, who couldn't bear to part with a good bit of their heirlooms and paintings, took the time to decorate the bare cottage. It isn't home, it will never be home, but it will do.

Though their cottage is safe from Voldemort and death eaters, it is still open to Dumbledore who pops in as he pleases to coo at Draco and inform them of the goings on in the magical world on a weekly basis. Merlin only knows why he doesn't just send a house elf with the Daily Prophet. Narcissa appreciates Dumbledore's company more than Lucius but that's because she's a bit of a social butterfly.

"Voldemort is on a warpath lately. We have lost many Order members." Dumbledore is sitting across from them at their little kitchen table, enjoying a cup of earl grey with so much sugar in it, Lucius wonders how the man has kept his teeth for a hundred some odd years. "He seems particularly driven towards killing the Potters. They've had to go into hiding as well."

"This is relevant to us, how?" Lucius says. Narcissa frowns at him disapprovingly but he ignores her.

"Just making conversation," He says flippantly. Lucius doubts that. Dumbledore sips his tea before speaking again. "They fear one of their friends might be a death eater."

Lucius almost rolls his eyes. "You want to know what I know."

Dumbledore twinkles encouragingly.

"Unfortunately, I was not privy to as much information as you might think. However my personal opinion is leaning towards Pettigrew."

"Peter!" Dumbledore lifts his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "You don't think it would be Sirius or Remus?"

Dumbledore, for all his power, is still naïve in some things. Lucius knows he holds those two men with suspicion only because of Black's family and Lupin's unfortunate status as Werewolf. Lucius knows better. "Pettigrew is the perfect example of a grunt death eater. He is generally dismissed by everyone as a bumbling fool and sticks to more powerful wizards like dirt to a shoe. He is a sickeningly malleable man, Dumbledore. Surely you can see the logic in a man like that going to the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore's expression is dripping with doubt but he is thinking and that's what matters.

"If you hold anyone under suspicion, let it be Peter Pettigrew." Lucius encourages.

Dumbledore nods absently, stuck in his glitter filled head. He leaves soon after, thanking Narcissa for her wonderfully brewed tea. The house elf pops in to take Dumbledore's empty tea cup and pops out just as quietly. Narcissa stands and walks over to the window above the sink to look out at the tiny garden that seems to attract nothing but butterflies. The waning sunlight sets her hair a glow.

"I do hope the Potters will be okay." She says softly.

Lucius can't help but raise his eyebrow.

"Oh, don't look at me like that." She says without turning around. "You know they have a child now, a little boy a few months younger than Draco. I hear he has an active Prince bloodline."

"Where on earth are you hearing these ridiculous things from? Dumbledore?" Lucius makes a note to never leave his wife alone with Dumbledore to chat again.

"Where else would I hear it from, the cabinets?" She sighs and moves away from the window to sit at the table again. "It seems Lily Potter was a pureblood after all and a Prince of all things. I wonder if Severus knows."

"I'm sure he does."

"It's a shame we couldn't have been in hiding together. Then Draco would have someone his own age to play with."

"And burn," Lucius says wryly. "It would be entertaining at least."

"Lucius, behave!" She huffs, glaring. He curls his lip into a slight smile. "Even you would benefit from a little social interaction, even if it were with Potters. You'd probably find that you and James have something in common."

"And what might that be, my dear?"

She tucks her long, pale hair behind her ear where it doesn't stay and smiles with the utmost serenity. "Family."

Lucius refrains from outright chuckling. As usual, she is always right.

October 31st, 1981

A heavy silence falls over the Potter home as the virulent glow of the Avada Kedavra curse fades. It leaves a pungent odor in the air. James Potter lays crumpled in the foyer, his hazel eyes staring at the ceiling, forever unseeing. His wand is clutched in his hand tightly as if he would bounce back from death to save his family. He won't.

The hardwood floor is splintered, leaving a trail of broken wood towards the stairs. The railings are rubble and the hallway upstairs is a disaster area of fallen paintings that wail and curse. The wallpaper is charred and curling off the walls. The carpeting looks to be eaten away in an uneven line that suspiciously looks like footprints.

The destruction stops at the last room on the right. The door is blown off its hinges and lies in chunks across the room of Harry's nursery. Lily Potter is curled up in the corner between the crib and the wall. Her wand is nowhere to be seen. She keeps her grip on her precious child, even in death.

Voldemort stands over her, rolls his shoulders, and stares down at the beautiful woman. He thinks it is a shame he had to kill her, especially knowing she is a Prince. It's an even bigger shame that he has to kill the littlest Potter. Looking at the catty baby who stares back at him unblinkingly from his mother's arms, ears pressed flat against his head, he thinks that he would have made a wonderful pet. Alas, he can't allow him to live.

He raises his wand, levels it at the boy, and whispers his two favorite words, "_Avada Kedavra_."

There is a crackle of sound as the vibrant green curse breaks free of his wand, Voldemort is used to that, but he isn't used to feeling like he's being pulled apart in all directions and burned alive at the same time. Something is horribly wrong, he realizes and despite his efforts to pull his wand away at the last moment, the electric green curse hits the baby and bounces back at him, creating a backlash of magic that bursts outward, shaking the very foundation of the house. Voldemort howls in outrage and pain as the magic consumes him; He crumbles like sand, leaving only his robes and wand behind.

When the dust settles, the entire first floor has been leveled, leaving behind very little of the second floor.

The aftermath of chilling silence is broken by a cry.


	2. The Taming of Severus Snape

Note: Thank you to those of you who reviewed! I appreciate it very much. It's relatively short but it's easier to manage writing something for pleasure in between all of my classes when it isn't 15 pages long each chapter. I do miss having enough free time to do that…

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

Bloodlines: Divergence

Chapter One: The Taming of Severus Snape.

_October 31__st__, 1984_

The room is finally silent, dimly lit by the crackling fireplace but most importantly, silent. Severus Snape sinks into his favorite chair with a glass of wine and praises himself on a job well done. His life has changed so abruptly in the past three years, becoming more than teaching students and making potions, more than keeping students in line and keeping his secrets safe from prying eyes and ears. He is satisfied that he has managed to stay the same ruthless, bitter old potions master he has always been, despite having been conned into becoming the guardian of Harry Potter.

"_Severus, come in!" Dumbledore says with a disgusting amount of cheer for it being nearly four in the morning. _

_Severus seats himself in one of the overstuffed chairs in front Dumbledore's lemon drop graveyard of a desk and adjusts his dark gray sleeping robe, disdain written all over his face.. "Albus, When do you plan on cleaning up this hazard you call a desk?" _

"_Whatever do you mean, my boy? It's in fine condition.. I've just managed to get it to where I know where everything is! Well, except for Fawkes' phoenix treats…" He plucks a lemon drop from the bowl in front of him, almost knocking over the top most book on a short stack of bigger books. A loose piece of parchment flutters to the ground at Severus' feet. "So, how are your classes?"_

_The Headmaster has asked him the same question, in the same exact manner, ever since his sixth year at Hogwarts and Severus replies the way_ he_ always does in a curt, impatient voice, "The first years wouldn't be able to mix oil with water let alone make a sleeping potion without destroying my classroom. I'm not in the mood for small talk, Albus, what do you want?" _

_Dumbledore nods as if he understands his turmoil. "Ah, well, do you remember the night you turned?" _

"_How on Earth could I possibly forget?" _

_Dumbledore pops the lemon drop into his mouth and deposits the wrapper into the bowl where it vanishes before looking at Severus. "I believe you said you would grant me a favor of my choosing in the future."_

_ Severus stares at the old man with resigned disgust but doesn't protest it because he is no Gryffindor; he knows when he is fighting a losing battle. "What do you need?" He says grudgingly. He can only imagine what he could possibly want; a lifetime of homemade lemon drops or something equally ridiculous, no doubt. _

_ However Albus Dumbledore seems to lose his crazy man twinkle and becomes, simply, an old, old man who once again, must tally up his losses. Severus has only seen him like this twice and only one of those incidents was because of him. It was sobering and Severus sits a little straighter in the chair with dread coiling in his belly. _

"_James and Lily Potter were murdered tonight by Voldemort." _

_ The revelation shocks Severus speechless for several long minutes. It is no secret that he despises James Potter and he feels nothing more than the shock over his death because of its abruptness. Lily is another story; she is family—a Prince—and once upon a time, she was his friend. _

"_However," Dumbledore continues. "Their son still lives." _

"_I suppose you would like me to risk my status as a spy in order to retrieve him?" _

"_Severus, you haven't noticed have you?" The twinkle comes to life in his blue eyes once more. _

"_Noticed what?" Dumbledore stares pointedly at his marked arm. Snape inhales sharply and swiftly rolls up the sleeve of his robe. He loses his breath when he sees perfectly unblemished, pale skin._

_Dumbledore speaks softly, "The Killing Curse that Voldemort cast on Harry Potter rebounded, stripping him from his body and leaving Harry with a cursed scar. I can only guess as to why it didn't work on Harry, though. Lily could have invoked an ancient protection charm on him before she was murdered or his…unique bloodline could be a factor but we can discuss that later._

"_Harry should have gone to Sirius Black but as he is currently in Azkaban that is no longer an option. Remus cannot take care of him for obvious reasons and Peter Pettigrew is dead. The only other choice would have been Lily's sister but there is a great flaw in that plan. They are severely magic-phobic and I wouldn't want any magical child to grow up in an environment where they are feared and hated. Aside from that, Lily appears to have been adopted therefore the protection Petunia Dursley could have provided for Harry is null."_

"_Oh no. . ." _

_Dumbledore's eyes are almost glowing. "Lily's birth parents were Connor Prewitt and Bastet Prince as I'm sure you are aware." _

_ Snape chokes on air and rage. He's never heard of Connor Prewitt before, though he is aware that the Prewitt's were purebloods. He couldn't be a Prince and _not _know who Bastet Prince was. She was the only Prince in hundreds of years to have been born with a fully active Prince bloodline, hence her naming. She was his aunt, though he had never known her. She disappeared shortly after getting married and didn't turn up again until her and her husbands' bodies had been found. It was believed that they had no children but if they had known they were going to die, it was plausible that they'd give up their child to keep it safe. No place was safer than the muggle world when it came to hiding. _

"_Lily did not have the active bloodline but Harry does to some extent." Dumbledore stands and disappears into a room behind Fawkes' perch. He reemerges with a little bundle cradled in his arms—Harry Potter. Dumbledore sits back into his chair and Snape sneers at the sleeping baby who looks too much like James Potter to be healthy. _

_The brat twitches, tickled by Dumbledore's beard, and so does two little black cat ears on his head. They are almost invisible against his wild head of hair. He is sure that if the baby wasn't wrapped in a silk purple blanket, he would see a small, fuzzy black tail. On his forehead, almost hidden behind all of that hair, is a lightning bolt shaped scar. _

_There is no doubt that Harry Potter is a Prince. He has seen pictures of the infamous Bastet Prince. She was of average height and held an unearthly grace with eyes a startling shade of green—the only one in the family with eyes of such a color. He sees some of her features in the little brat, mostly her nose and pale, rosy skin. Hopefully the brat would outgrow the Potter hair and adopt the Prince's more controlled genes. Not that he cares, though. He has no intentions of taking care of Harry Potter, no matter his lineage and he tells Dumbledore exactly that. _

_Dumbledore replies, "You owe me, Severus. You know I don't ask much of you—"_

"_Oh yes, because being a spy is just a trot around the lake." _

_Dumbledore gives him a disapproving look over the top of his glasses. "You volunteered for that position, Severus, and I am more than grateful to you for it. However, I have taken great risks to keep you in this school after learning of your taste for the dark arts and affiliation with the Dark Lord. I have only ever asked you for one thing and it is the only favor I will ask you. Harry is your blood relative and with you he will receive the greatest protection available."_

_Severus snarls, feeling cornered and desperate. Screw losing battles; he was going to win this one if it killed him. "Why don't you think this over a little more, Albus. I am a death eater—"_

"_You are no more a death eater than I am—"_

"_As a potions master I am required to lecture; surely you don't think I'll be toting a baby arou—"_

"_The other professors and I are more than willing to watch him during those times—"_

"_I work with dangerous potions daily, for hours at a time, I can't poss—"_

"_As I said, we are more than willing to watch him when you aren't ab—"_

"_I _hate_ children!" He finally screeches. _

"_Think of this as a learning experience." Dumbledore stands and despite Severus' red faced protests, he carefully deposits baby Harry into his arms. _

"_Albus!" He says helplessly, holding the baby awkwardly. Harry opens his eyes then and for one moment Severus swears the killing curse has just been cast at him. The child's brilliant green eyes were brighter than his mother's, an unholy color that reaches out and grabs hold of his attention with greedy hands. The pupils are ovular and as Severus' hair curtains over the child, blocking out the light, they widen and reflect what light there is like a mirror. _

"_Breathe, Severus." _

_ Snape blinks and releases the breath he is holding. Then he glowers at the cooing baby who is unaffected by his obvious contempt. Harry's little hand shoots out and grabs a fist full of Severus' hair and yanks without restraint. It has Snape spitting curses." Potter!" He snarls and attempts to untangle his hair from the brat's fingers. It takes a while but he succeeds without breaking the child's fingers. The boy is already turning into his father! "Insolent whelp." He whispers menacingly. The baby bares its gums happily and reaches for his hair again. "Stop it!"_

"_I trust you with Harry," Dumbledore says, watching the interaction with amusement. "Because I know that you won't coddle him and let his fame turn him into someone whose shoulders can't bear the weight of his own inflated head but you also won't abuse him. You will be strict but it will shape him into a disciplined young man, someone to be respected, and someone powerful in both magical abilities and mental prowess. Severus, you are a righteous man, despite what you and many others think. I know you as well as you know yourself. I know that you will do what is best for Harry and I know that it will change you for the better if you will only acknowledge that Harry is _not_ James Potter. Raise him with no biased thoughts and you will see."_

"_You know an awful lot about how I should raise your precious Potter; perhaps you are better fit for this job." He grumbles, pulling his hair out of the child's grip again._

"_I'm too old to be raising children and besides," He says and shoots him a look over the top of his half-moon glasses. "I'm not a Prince." _

_ Severus Snape, in that moment, gives in. As always, Albus is right. Harry Potter is not just James Potter's son. He is also Lily's son and he has more respect for her than all of the Marauders combined and multiplied times three. Lily was a Prince and there is no higher honor in his book. He stands to stare down his nose at the headmaster. The effect is severely dulled by the giggling baby still trying to grip his hair. _

"_I refuse to raise Harry Potter, Albus. It simply won't be done." Dumbledore sighs and opens his mouth to say something but Severus cuts him off. "I will, however, raise Harry Prince. You will do well to remember that."_

"_Of course, of course," He beams and claps his hands together. "Though I don't think the Ministry will let you completely drop his last name. Even though it's only been a few hours since his parent's death and the supposed death of Voldemort, his name has already become something of a legend. You're not against a hyphenated name, are you?" _

_He is but it is yet another losing battle. There are too many of those lately. He sighs, "No."_

_Dumbledore waves his wand at a series of papers scattered around his desk that glow faintly. Snape watches as his name etches itself out on all of them and he glares darkly at the Headmaster. "Are you sure you weren't a Slytherin?" _

"_Me? No, no…I was a Gryffindor." _

_ Severus snorts. The papers glimmer brightly before stacking themselves together. Dumbledore wraps them in a parcel and ties it to Fawkes' leg. The phoenix trills softly before disappearing in a burst of warm flames. With a gleeful look, Dumbledore turns back to Snape. "Congratulations Severus; you're a father." _

The Potter brat—_Potter-Prince brat now—_hasn't produced some miraculous, heart-warming change in him like Dumbledore obviously hoped he would. It wasn't going to happen. He is the way he is by circumstance and choice. He likes the way he is. He his protected and in turn can protect others more efficiently than he could if he were a soft-hearted, emotion driven, simpering idiot like those damn marauders. _And look at them now. Two dead, one in Azkaban and the other wallowing in self-pity in some destitute habitat like the beast he is._ He thinks bitterly.

He was named Severus for a reason, after all. _If only Albus would get the hint. I swear if that man shoves another orphaned brat onto me, related or not, I'll—_

A shriek of terror pierces his thoughts and he sets his glass down on the floor by the chair with a sigh. _It really was too much to ask for one night of peace. Damn Potters._ He swiftly strides into the boy's room and glowers at the decorations Dumbledore imposed on his former study room. Purple and gold dominate the tapestries, carpeting and bedding. It is sickening and no matter how many times he changes it to a more tolerable color scheme, the brat's uncontrolled magic changes it back.

He hovers over the crib and frowns at the red-faced child whose tail is curled defensively around a leg and whose ears are pressed flat against wild black hair. Harry's green eyes are wide and teary, full of pain and terror that no child his age should know.

"Silence child," He commands softly.

The tears lessen though the frightful expression remains. "Mommy?"

Severus presses his lips into a thin line. Ever since he started learning how to speak, he has asked the same question almost every night. Severus doesn't want to believe the child is dreaming of his mother's death but it is often a common occurrence with cursed scars. There isn't much he can do about it—yet—except try and calm the boy down enough to sleep. He has tried to explain that his mother was dead without putting him into shock but he doesn't always remember, especially not after a nightmare.

Harry mewls pitifully, the tears streaming down his little face.

"I said be quiet." He says with a little more force. Harry falls silent though his lips tremble and his eyes widened sadly, ears still pressed flat like a scolded kitten. _Not that damn face again._ He stares at the wallpaper, dark purple with tiny snitches that occasionally flutter their wings and move. "You're mother is dead—"He scowls when the boy starts to cry again. "She's in heaven."

The tears stop and curiosity perks his little ears. "Heban?"

He focuses on Harry's eyes again. "Yes, _heaven_. It's where…good men and women go when they die. Your mother isn't hurt." _I can't believe I said that…_

"Okay!" Harry exclaims, full of enough happiness to give Severus tooth decay.

"Yes, yes." He snaps. "Now will you go to sleep?" The toddler grins happily and snuggles into his blankets. Severus sighs in relief and turns to leave.

"Nigh-nigh, daddy."

That single English butchering sentence has Severus sneering weakly at the child.

"Love you ." A yawn and a feline stretch later, Harry Potter-Prince is asleep.

Several hours later, Severus Snape is still trying to mend the cracks in his defense.

_End Chapter One._


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